“The medical team want to take Emily down to the radiology department,” the cop said. “We’ll wait here with you until they get back. Perhaps you can try and get someone to bring identification down for Jane.”
“We hardly know anyone,” Jane said. “We only moved here a month ago.”
“You’ve got neighbours?” Waldon said.
“Sure, but we don’t know them well enough to have given them a spare key yet.”
“How about you,” Waldon said to Pete. “Can you go home and bring the ID down?”
“I’d rather stay,” Pete said. “I want to make sure Emily is okay.”
“She’s got some of the best children’s doctors looking after her,” Waldon said.
“I know, I meant I wanted to make sure you don’t move her anywhere without our permission.”
He saw both cops bristle at that. “If we move her, we move her.”
“And we go with Emily,” Pete said.
“Not if we arrest you and take you down to the squad house.”
Pete watched as orderlies wheeled Emily away, one of the social workers going with her. The other stayed behind. Pete checked his watch. Five minutes? Is that all the time that’s passed?
The cops fell silent. Waldon relented a little when asked and released Jane’s arm. The social worker made a phone call, and Pete heard her asking about seeing a judge for custody papers in the case of a sick child. Jane gripped his hand. Her touch felt colder than ice. Pete resisted looking at his watch again. He’d been a cop once and knew that the two officers would pick up on any action as being suspicious. Instead, he asked if Jane could sit down. Waldon nodded, and Pete guided Jane to a plain, plastic chair. He squatted beside her as she put her face into her hands. Jane’s shoulder shook. Pete knew she’d come close to breaking point before, but this time the enemies were human and in a way, that made the situation more frightening.
Catching a handful of her light-red hair in his hand, he pulled Jane close and whispered, “Trust me for a few more minutes.”
Jane wiped tears from her eyes. “What have you done?”
“There’s only one way out of this.”
Jane nodded, not trusting herself to speak. When they returned from England she and Pete had agreed that Emily needed as close to a normal upbringing as they could offer. So they left the shadows of the Department of Special Investigations behind them. Hugo Dawson, the retired Army general who ran the DSI, understood their reasons. But he did offer them one avenue back to the fold. If ever they needed it, one call would bring the cavalry riding to the rescue. Jane never expected to use it, or maybe in her heart of hearts, she never wanted to use it. But here they were, about to be sucked back in.
The cops stood in the corridor outside the cubicle and chatted about sports and squad room gossip. The social worker never seemed to have her cell phone further than two inches from her ear. Hospital staff and visitors crossed Pete’s vision, ignoring them for the most part and only then curious because of the presence of the two cops.
Emily returned from radiology, still comatose. Berg said the preliminary findings would be with him within ten minutes with more thorough results in two hours after the team had analysed the results of the two scans. Jane went to Emily’s side again, brushing the hair away from Emily’s face where it slipped across.
Next to the cops, the social worker said, “We should have the court order in the next fifteen minutes.”
The cops didn’t seem interested, so Pete said, “What does that mean?”
“A local judge has signed the paperwork allowing us to take Emily under our care. You will only be allowed accompanied visits and will not be alone with her until we can determine the best care path for her.”
“She’s sick,” Pete said. “So she stay’s here.”
“Absolutely.” The social worker seemed unfazed by Pete’s growing anger. “Which also means you cannot take her from here without risk of arrest.”
“But you’d need to serve the papers on me first,” Pete said, as two men in dark suits appeared behind the social worker. “Is that correct?”
“It is,” the middle-aged woman said with exaggerated patience. “But these officers can place you under arrest to prevent you taking Emily.”
The two newcomers looked like they came from the same mould. Six-foot-plus, with broad shoulders and crew-cut hair they stopped at the entrance to the cubicle and one said,
“Mr Walsh?”
“Here.” Pete pushed himself up on creaking knees.
“And Ms DeForrest?”
“Yes.” Jane stood.
“And this is Emily?”
“It is,” Jane said, her voice quiet.
“And you are?” the social worker looked annoyed at the interruption.
The two men pulled ID cards out. “Agents Vaughn and Muller, Homeland Security. We’ll be taking control of this now.”
The social worker’s mouth dropped open in shock. Waldon and her partner came off the wall they’d been resting against, “Say what?” Waldon asked.
“We’re taking over; you can get back to your usual duties now, Officer Waldon,” Agent Muller said.
Pete almost laughed at the look on the cops’ faces as they got another close-up look at the identity cards.
“You can’t walk in here and...”
“Yes, we can, and we have.” Vaughn looked down on the social worker. “Now, we have work to do.” He turned to Pete and Jane. “We have an ambulance downstairs and a medical team on their way up to take care of Emily.”
Berg stepped in. “As Emily’s emergency physician, I cannot allow you to take her from the best place that can care for her.” He stopped talking as the first member of Emily’s new medical team appeared. “Professor Mudal?”
“Good evening, Dr Berg. I see you’ve been taking care of my new patient.”
Mudal looked to be in his fifties, with dark skin and thick black hair. He wore a pin-stripe suit and a red bowtie. Berg seemed stunned. “I didn’t know you worked for Homeland Security.”
“They have me on a retainer. I’m called in from time to time to help in various cases they are working on.”
“And the girl will be well cared for?”
“We’ll take her to a military hospital,” Mudal said. “It has some of the best facilities in the country. You will, of course, share the results of any tests and scans you’ve carried out?”
“Of course,” Berg said.
“Good.” Mudal gestured to the paramedics who had accompanied him. “Move Emily down to the ambulance.”
The social worker made one last attempt to stop them. “We have a court order on its way. You cannot intervene without making the...”
“Which judge signed it?” Muller asked.
“Brandt,” the social worker said.
“I’ll call him and explain the situation. We’ll get the order rescinded.”
The social worker finally seemed to understand that events were now out of her control. She turned to Pete. “Levine’s is the best children’s hospital in the state. Emily will not get better treatment anywhere.”
“You gave us no choice,” Pete said, brushing the social worker aside as he and Jane followed Emily out of the cubicle.
“I’m going to make some calls,” the social worker shouted after them. “We’ll see who has the most clout then.”
Muller walked back to stand in front of her. “Trust me, don’t make any calls. If you do you could end up transferred to Alaska.”
She blinked. “Are you threatening me?”
The Homeland Security agent looked at Waldon and her partner. “What do you think? Was I threatening her?”
“Nope,” Waldon said. Her partner shook his head.
Muller smiled. “See? Witnesses state that I didn’t threaten you. What do you think?”
The social worker shook her head. “Why her?”
“I can’t tell you,” Muller said with a smile, and left a stunned social worker and cops b
ehind.
***
Emily ran. Sheddlestone Hall loomed large in her vision. The steps up to the main entrance seemed higher than normal, and part of her put that down to the dream state. The door opened for her and she ran through the reception area and up the curving flight of stairs to the galleried landing. Here she paused, breathless, as darkness edged ever closer. The storm clouds blotted out the sun, and what little light reached her through windows and open doors faded to an ash grey dusk.
The wind began to howl around the corners of the stately home, a mournful sound that made Emily’s nerves shiver with fear. Shadowy figures entered the reception area. The men, stalking her like a predator stalks its prey. She retreated from the balustrade until her back hit the wall and she could edge along it, out of sight of the hunters.
A loud bang made her jump, thunder rumbled, and the building seemed to shake to its foundations. Emily ran away from the staircase into a corridor that seemed consumed by darkness. She held a hand out in front of her, searching the gloom for obstructions. The first came as the corridor turned left. Emily’s wrist flared in pain as she ran into the wall and the impact winded her. Panting, she looked back. They were coming, three abreast, and their smiles seemed to light the world with an evil glimmer of red.
Emily swallowed a whimper of fear. Her heart raced now, and her stomach turned to a hot liquid that boiled up and filled her throat. Her pursuers seemed to sense her growing terror. One of them laughed, a sound that made her skin crawl. Emily moved again, a little more carefully this time. Her breath came in heaving gulps that made her mouth dry. Another crash of thunder made her stumble. She heard the hunters howl with joy. A door opened on her left, and a hand reached out and dragged her into a dimly lit room.
A young boy held her hand, a smile lighting up his dark skin.
“Connor!” Emily flung her arms around her friend, tears of relief spilling down her cheeks.
Connor held her for a moment before he pushed Emily back and said, “We don’t have much time. They’re almost here.”
“Who? Those men?” Emily looked at the closed door as if she could see the strange men through it.
“They are Death Gods,” Connor told her. “And we need to get you home.”
“I don’t know how,” Emily said. “I thought I could dream walk like you did and...”
Connor pointed to her right. She saw another door, connecting this room with another.
“Go through there,” he said. “You’ll be safe then.”
“And you?”
“I’ll run.”
Emily started towards the door before she stopped and said, “I was looking for Alex.”
“I know,” Connor said. “So are we. But we don’t know where he is.”
“Is he...” Emily hesitated. More thunder. The door rattled as someone, or something, tried to enter the room. “Is he dead?”
“I don’t think so.” Emily saw the door handle turn. Connor said, “Go. Now.”
She ran to the connecting door. A glance over her shoulder showed the Death Gods coming after her. They sensed a change in the world, and it drove their urgency. The one with a skull head leapt towards Emily as she ran into the door. For a moment, she feared it was locked, and then it opened, and she fell into an eye-searing light.
***
A man’s face filled Emily’s vision. He had brown skin and a big bushy moustache. His eyes widened in surprise as Emily woke. Above him a bright fluorescent lamp formed a halo around his head.
Emily screamed, and the man jumped back out of sight. She tried to sit up and found her arms bound to her sides, straps across her chest and stomach and legs prevented anything but minimal movement. Emily took another breath as she fought the restraints.
Her mom appeared, a cool, familiar hand on Emily’s forehead telling her not to panic.
“Emily, it’s okay, you’re safe. Do you hear me? You’re safe.”
“Mom?” Emily heard the break in her voice, the fear coming out of her now in waves of tears as she realised she lay on a stretcher in the back of a moving ambulance.
Jane kissed her cheek. “You’re back,” she said. “We thought we’d lost you.”
“Ms DeForrest?” the Asian man touched Jane’s shoulder. “I need to check Emily’s vitals.”
Jane nodded and said to Emily, “This is Professor Mudal, he works for the DSI. You can trust him.”
As Mudal came close again, Emily said, “I’m sorry, you scared me.”
The Professor’s smile made his face light up. “Not as much as you scared me,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting you to wake up so suddenly. Can I ask you a couple of questions?”
“Yes.”
“What day of the week is it?”
“Um,” Emily frowned. “I went to bed on Sunday evening, is it still Sunday?”
The Professor checked his watch. “Monday now, but I’ll take Sunday as a correct answer.”
More questions. What year was it? Her date of birth? Her mom’s date of birth?
Mudal seemed happy with all her answers. “Try to get some rest now,” he said. “We still have a little way to go before we reach our stop.”
“Where are we going?” Emily asked.
Her mom answered, “The Womack Army Medical Centre in Fort Bragg.”
Emily remembered something about that name. “What’s at Fort Bragg?” she asked.
“It’s the new base for the DSI,” Jane said. “We’re going to see all our old friends again.”
Her mom didn’t seem too happy about that, Emily noticed. She turned her head as best she could, “Mom? Where’s Pete?”
“He’s gone back to the house to pack some change of clothes. He’s going to drive down and meet us in the morning.”
Emily nodded. Then she remembered her dream. “Mom, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Not now, Em,” Jane brushed stray hairs from Emily’s forehead. “You need to rest.”
“It’s important,” Emily said.
Jane sighed as if she did not want to hear the next few words. “Go on then.”
“There were Death Gods hunting me in my dream. Connor rescued me.”
Jane said nothing. Behind her, Mudal asked, “Who is Connor?”
“He’s a boy who died last year,” Jane said. “Emily sees his spirit sometimes.”
“He saved me from the gods,” Emily said. “And you remember Daisy and Hannah asked us about Alex?”
Jane nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“Connor said they are looking for him, but don’t know where he is.”
“And they will want your help to find him?” Jane asked.
“Yes,” Emily said.
Jane sighed. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
Chapter Seven
Kramer found a motel on the outskirts of Weymouth and let Scarrett do the gentlemanly thing of carrying her bag into their room. Not that he had much choice when her cell phone rang as they were getting the bags from the car. Kramer hung around in the parking lot as Scarrett headed off to their room. He came out once to see where she’d got to and vanished back inside when he saw Kramer leaning on the driver’s door with a frown on her face.
The cold night air chilled Kramer through the thin jacket she wore. Late summer heat faded quickly by the coast, and she guessed there would be mist or fog to contend with when they hit the road in the morning. Kramer took one last look around as she walked to their room. A habit she learned over the years to make one final check for potential threats. But Weymouth seemed a quiet place, far enough from the big city to be a heaven and not a commuter belt hell.
Scarrett had his feet up when she walked in. He had the television tuned to a local news channel, and the big story was what the media referred to as an audacious heist from the MFA. Kramer dumped herself alongside him on the bed and watched a perma-tanned newsreader with hair too good to be true trot out the usual police appeals for witnesses.
“They never mentioned
our suicide guy,” Ben said, as the news switched to a series of sponsors messages.
“I think the press are on a promise of full disclosure of the investigation if they hold back on certain information.” Kramer stretched.
“What was the call about?” Scarrett asked as he hopped off the bed and got the kettle boiling again.
Kramer watched his profile as he poured her a mug of coffee. Her mother always said avoid men with big noses. Kramer never knew why, and her mother never offered an explanation, but Scarrett fit that requirement. He also just about met the ‘don’t date guys shorter than you’ rule. The only rule Ben broke was the one that ran ‘don’t mix work and pleasure’. But if he still wanted to drop out of the DSI and head back to his office with the Agency then maybe even that rule would be overcome.
He came back with her coffee and a mini-pack of oatmeal biscuits. Kramer took them and said, “You know how to treat a woman.”
“If you play your cards right I might even wash up for you.” He gave her a smile that made her wonder why she’d ever tried to avoid falling in love. “So,” he said as he settled back onto the bed. “The call.”
“An update.”
“Yeah? On what?”
Kramer hid her smile by sipping at the hot coffee. She liked winding him up, but in this case, she figured honesty might be the best way to go. “On Emily DeForrest.”
“Emily? What’s happened?” Scarrett sat up, jogging her arm and almost spilling her drink.
“Nothing. Well, something, but nothing to concern us right now.”
“What’s happened?”
“You do know you almost spilt my drink? Getting coffee stains out of this blouse will be difficult.”
“Sorry,” he said as if he didn’t mean it.
“I’d make you buy a new one,” Kramer said, as she put her mug down on the bedside table.
“I’d help you out of that one and make sure the coffee hasn’t scalded you.” Scarrett gave her a nudge and a wink.
“And how would you do that?” Kramer crossed her arms and feigned a little bit of anger.
The Tomb (Scarrett & Kramer Book 3) Page 10